


Things That Are Real

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s11e04 The Lost Art Of Forehead Sweat, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 21:10:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13489854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: A different take on the episode.





	Things That Are Real

When Mulder opens his eyes and sees Scully in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, a sincere smile on her face, he is convinced he is still asleep, still in the claws of a dream. He is still wearing his squatching outfit, too.

“Hey.” She says and her voice is so warm, so soft that no, this can’t be real. He tries to shake it off, this feeling of being caught between sleep and wakefulness. There is something niggling on his brain, gnawing. But all he sees, and all he wants to see, is Scully and her smile. The alternative, he knows, is waking up to a cold, empty house that lacks warmth because she is not there. No matter how often he blinks, though, she remains there.

“Scully?” He asks, sleep dripping from his voice.

“Were you expecting anyone else, Mulder? As cute as you look sleeping in that… thing, I’m hungry.” Dinner. He remembers dinner. Talking to Scully on the phone when he returned from squatchin’. Dinner, his mind chimes. Dinner. Tomorrow night. He did not sleep a whole day, did he? He stares at her with his mouth open. “Are you all right? You should really take that thing off, you know.” Scully walks closer to the couch, crouches next to it so they are face to face. Mulder has yet to move.

“I thought… we were having dinner tomorrow night.” Scully clears her throat, blushes. There’s a nice pinkish glow about her when she lifts her face again to look into his eyes.

“After I couldn’t reach you all day,” she gives him a stern look, “I just… I guess I missed you. I haven’t eaten at all because I missed you.” Scully admits biting her lower lip.

“But you hung up on me, Scully.”

“Because you were telling me a story you’ve told me a million times. And I didn’t want to listen to you ramble again,” he pouts at her, “because I wanted to get going, Mulder. It’s a long drive out here.”

“This is a dream, right? I’m still dreaming.” Scully touches his cheek and her face is so close that her breath caresses his cheek.

“I’d prove to you that it’s not, but… I really am hungry. Food first.” As she helps him out, memories flash before his eyes. There really was a dream, he thinks. So vivid that he feels dizzy for a moment.

“Scully, I think I had a dream.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the exact quote, Mulder.” She tugs at his arm, but he doesn’t move. He sits back down on the couch and Scully groans.

“I’m serious. I can see it,” he turns to her, “You were there and a guy named Reggie.”

“Reggie?”

“Reggie something. We were in the parking garage back at work and he said the strangest things.”

“It was a dream, Mulder. Just a dream. The food I brought however is real.” She tugs at his arm again, more forcefully this time.

“He was convinced that we’d worked together. The three of us. Imagine that, Scully.”

“I will imagine it, Mulder. Over dinner. Now come on.” She pleads as she takes both his hands into hers and tries to pull him up.

“He kept talking about the Mandela Effect except that he called it the Mengele Effect. Scully, do you like jello?”

“Who doesn’t like jello, Mulder?”

“It was called… Goop-O ABC. Does that ring a bell?”

“The other day I asked you where you put your glasses and you didn’t know. But this you remember?” He just glances at her waiting for an answer. “Yes, Mulder. I loved their jello as a kid. But only the cherry flavor because-”

“Because the lemon-lime tastes like leprechaun taint.”

“Yes, how did you…”

“I told you I had a dream. It seemed so real.” Scully squints at him, comes closer and puts her face close to his. She stares him up and down and he wonders if she’s looking for a sign that he’s gone insane. Or that he’s joking. Or… his thoughts are interrupted by her stomach grumbling loudly, angrily. He holds his breath for a second before he starts laughing.

“It’s not funny, Mulder. I really am hungry.”

“I believe you.” He chuckles and this time, when she pulls at him, he follows her. The dream, Reggie’s face, a strange old man called Dr. They and an alien on a scooter, pale with every step he takes.

“Mulder, you need to get changed. I’m not going to sit across from you while you’re wearing your squatching outfit.”

“You can sit on me, if you prefer.” He waggles his eyebrows and Scully rolls her eyes. But she’s smiling.

“Go get changed and do it quickly. I can’t promise I’ll wait for you.” She touches his cheek, pats it lovingly. In the bathroom he examines himself in the mirror while absent-mindedly scratching his chest. He tries to grab for the dream again, but save a for a few images, it is gone. All he remembers now are Reggie and the jello. Scully’s face when she talked about it. 

“Hey Scully,” Mulder switches off the light and puts on a fresh t-shirt, “how about we get some jello for dessert?”

“Sounds good.” Scully lets him know from the kitchen where plates and cutlery clatter enticingly. Whatever the dream was, or tried to be, Mulder lets go of it, forgets it quickly. He licks his lip as he walks into the kitchen where Scully is waiting for him. That, he thinks, is the only thing that counts. The two of them, here. Together.


End file.
